


The dull, persistent press of teeth.

by songofproserpine



Series: AkeShu: The Thing That Feels [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Dirty Talk, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Kink, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofproserpine/pseuds/songofproserpine
Summary: Best read when listening to Depeche Mode's “Enjoy The Silence” (with the pronouns changed.)





	The dull, persistent press of teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> Best read when listening to Depeche Mode's “Enjoy The Silence” (with the pronouns changed.)

Ren and Goro didn't often get a chance to spend time alone. When they did, every moment became a rush of taste and touch, a war between silence and sound.

It started with a click and a bell, specifically the one hanging above Leblanc's door. The bell chimed overhead as Ren opened the door and let Goro step inside, and though it was odd to be in a cafe after closing hours, it also felt so... _right_. This was his refuge, his sanctuary—this was where Goro finds his heart when he wasn't at home.

Not that he would ever say such a thing out loud--at least, not now that they were sleeping together. Soft words from a tender heart were best left to rot in that exact spot. There's no telling what might happen if they were ever heard.

"Thanks for stopping by," Ren said, jamming his hands into his pockets. His hair was a mess, as expected, but his glasses are gone, as Goro had hoped. They would only get fogged up and knocked off, anyway.

"Thank you for the invitation," Goro countered, returning the slanted smile with a knowing one of his own.

"You wanna...?" Ren jerked his thumb over his shoulder, motioning to the stairs. "Go up?"

"It's been a few days, hasn't it?" He asked, frowning. As if he had to think about it. As if he hadn't counted the hours since he was last here after dark. "I'd say we're overdue, wouldn't you?"

Ren laughed and held out his hand. For a moment, just a moment and no more, Goro hesitated. But the moment passed, and soon his hand was clasped tightly in Ren's own. His skin was warm against the leather, like a fire that they must kindle to keep alive and stay warm.

One after the other they ascended the stairs and waited the customary opening seconds for the tension to reach a feverish, frantic pitch only their hearts could hear. Once they were in Ren's room, they take one step, then a half stumble, their hands searching, their lips colliding, their pulses pounding a ferocious beat deep in their hearts. They shared sharp breaths and raspy gasps that were caught in hissing teeth and passed along the tips of tongues.

Goro fell silent, letting the language of touch and need supersede that of any words he might speak. He enjoyed the silence, he reveled in it. It was like a game that was its own reward. It was also a risk, like too much air crowding into his lungs, making him ready to burst. This air, these secrets, this half-hearted silence and full-hearted kisses were so much to the point of too much, making these moments with Ren almost poignant in their pleasure.

Goro shivered, caught in the hook of his own heart. Sensing every shudder, Ren held him tighter, pressed him closer, and whispered, "You like how that feels?"

Because he was neither rude nor ungrateful, Goro answered, but he did so with hands and tongue and a sharp, sudden kiss that left Ren weak and breathless—but not for long.

Ren can't stay quiet during most of these secret meetings. For better or worse, he was determined to let Goro hear just how the other boy was making him feel. Luckily, most of his words were broken, just pieces of sound that moved fast from parted lips, lips that would soon bear the weight of kisses and then just as quickly know the dull, persistent press of teeth.

Moaning low in his throat, Ren's hands take on a mind of their own--clawing, quick, catching on Goro's shirt collar, tugging on his tie, then slipping one finger gracelessly beneath a glove so he can trace the lines of Goro's palm with his own sweat.

Even Goro couldn't help but gasp at this touch. It's so bold, so sudden, and is somehow both tender, as it's feather-light, and yet vulgar. It takes a dark sort of courage to claim an inch of skin that was otherwise deliberately hidden. But that was Ren defined. He was too hungry for his own good, his need too great for his heart and the bones that caged it in. Or perhaps that was just Goro's own self, reflected in him.

Goro kept his own eyes straight and his touch light, like a shadow dancing across Ren's skin. Where should he touch next? Even Goro doesn’t quite know. The arch of his ribs? The back of his neck, with a quick scrape of nails, now bared from their glove? Or maybe just a thumb pressed to Ren's bottom lip, trapping another moan inside his mouth? Oh, he liked the thought of that. He'd done this before. This was usually joined by his other hand dipping lower and further, boldly slipping beneath the undone belt and clasp of Ren's pants, but Goro liked to change it up now and then. Take a risk, dare a chance—bury all the words he might say in the tender grave of his touch.

Which was why, now, Goro's hips were pressed flush against Ren's as his hands cupped the other boy's face and locked him in place, trapping him against the wall next to that silly idol poster and pathetic potted plant. That poster crinkled in protest from the sudden impact. It was the only complaint made in the room.

"Harder," Ren said. The word hung in the air like bait waiting to be bit.

He wasn't left waiting for long. Goro complied quickly, grinding his hips and hardness against both of Ren’s own. "Like that?" he whispered, his lips curling around Ren’s ear.

It's not technically speaking if you echoed what you were told. It might be cheating, yes, but Goro didn't think Ren was in any position to complain. To make other noises, perhaps, but not that.

And sure enough—"Yes," Ren whispered, "Yes, like that. Just like that. Don't stop."

They always whispered in the attic. Their voices were always coated with hushed words and pleas, a whole song of need that only they can ever sing.

Goro grinned as he pressed a kiss right up against the pulse point in the other boy's neck. How nice it felt to do something right. Nicer still to do it well, if Ren's reactions were any indication of success. And they should be—they _had_ to be. Ren was too graceless to be anything but sincere, and Goro took this genuine ache to heart. He cherished every moan and gasp and wordless cry, the telltale murmur of an orgasm’s rush, more than it might be wise for quick sex in a cafe attic—but he was so hungry, you see, and so heavy with his own heart. Words could hardly give this burden justice. Only his body could do that. Only his hands, his touch, his lips and his tongue, and whatever other part belonging to Goro that Ren might want, too.

To Goro's well-hidden surprise, Ren wanted it all. Every time. And, just as surprising, he was glad to give just as much.

But only sometimes.

Too suddenly, and much too soon for his own good, Goro’s breath came too fast and close, his heart tripping into a full-on panic. It trapped him inside his skin, making his bones a cage and his heart a prisoner. Ren had a firm, fast grip on Goro’s length, timing his kisses with the descent of his fist.

“Breathe,” he whispered. His words filled the air between them and made Goro shiver again, his need breaking into relief. “Relax. Breathe. Share it with me.”

Pinching his eyes shut tight, Goro listened to the sound of Ren’s breath, and forced his own to meet the pace. That was better. It wasn’t perfect, no, he was still panicking and anxious beneath the surface, but at the very least he could focus on something else.

There was little he didn't want to share with Ren and, if pushed, perhaps... maybe, just _maybe_ , Goro could crack open the whole of his heart and show him the hole within—but only if he was a fool, only if he was brave, and yes, only if he was enough of a coward to throw aside a whole life's worth of planning and dark needing—and only as long as such secrets stayed in the attic. There was no telling what might happen if the truth were ever heard.

Maybe it would never happen. After all, he would much rather enjoy the silence.


End file.
